You're Never Changing Who I Am
by Kori-Goddess-of-Candy
Summary: I'm not normal. I never have been. Never will be. Normal people don't see the world as it really is. Dark, cruel, and controlling. It's more fun to be insane. To make people fear you. This is my story. Who I am. What I am. You don't have to read this. You can keep scrolling. But remember. Embrace your darkness willingly, or it will drag you down into hell.
1. Chapter 1

**This is about me. And I won't pretend anymore. I don't have to. And I like that. Because now you can see the dark side of me. Who I really am.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own shit. Song lyrics, Percy Jackson, nothing. So fuck off and don't rub it in. (Sort of kidding...)**

_Song lyrics - Italics_

Do you remember when you were a little kid, and you were afraid of the dark? Afraid of the monsters under your bed? Afraid of the stories your siblings told you? Did you ever hear voices in your head, telling you to do the wrong thing?

Were you afraid of them?

Not me.

That darkness, it sculpted me into being who I am. It made me stronger. It made me accept the cruel world around me and grow from it.

Those monsters, they helped me see life the right way. They helped me see the evil world. They gave me scars that helped me grow.

Those voices, they helped me learn how to steal, cheat, lie. They provided a sense of comfort when my mom made me feel like shit. We plotted so many different ways to murder people, painfully, brutally.

_I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed_

_Get along with the voices inside of my head_

_You're trying to save me, stop holding your breath_

_And you think I'm crazy, yeah, you think I'm crazy_

I've always hated my parents. A lot. Like, throw-a-knife-at-your-head-and-kill-you hate. And right now I really want to, as my wonderful mother (Sarcasm) was rambling about my grades, and how I needed to try harder, even though I was doing my best. That just makes me so mad, how parents only care about grades. And apparently, I can add stupid and disgusting to the long list of adjectives that describe me.

_According to you I'm stupid, I'm useless  
I can't do anything right  
According to you I'm difficult, hard to please  
Forever changing my mind_

I was ready to jump out of a speeding train by the time we reached my house. I shot out of the car, passed right by my dad, and flopped down on my bed after sprinting to my room. After laying there, thinking about how soft my bed was with it's black comforter and blue sheets, I slid out of bed, and dropped my hideous pink jacket on the floor as I walked to my closet. I slipped out of my colorful green pants and slid on some torn black jeans. I had popped off my brightly colored shoes before I left the kitchen, so they were probably being thrown outside by my dad. My tight black tank was the only thing that I liked, because I could let my wings out, and they wouldn't be bothered by clothing.  
I have an alternate ego in a way, not like a secret thing, but because at school, I have to be a happy crazy wacko girl that everyone thinks is naive and innocent. Yeah. Dumbass fuckers right? Not even my friends knew the real me. They don't know how godamn broken I am. Because either their really stupid, or I'm really good at hiding it. I shook myself out if my thoughts, punched a few button on my iPod, and voila, my speakers blasted one of my favorite bands, Green Day.

I flopped back on my bed as I listened to the lyrics, drifting back into my thoughts.

_When you're at the end of the road  
And you lost all sense of control  
And your thoughts have taken their toll  
When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul  
Your faith walks on broken glass and the hangover doesn't pass  
Nothing's ever built to last, you're in ruins_

Yeah. I know what that feels like. Being in ruins. Every day. Who doesn't?  
As chorus comes on I sing loudly, jump off my bed and lock the door, letting my black wings expand, melting from the sparkling tattoo on my back. I stretched out my wolf ears and they rose up from my long, blue streaked, black hair that fell in waves down my back. I didn't let my claws out seeing as I'd rather not rip my clothes more than they were.

_One, 21 Guns  
Lay down your arms  
Give up the fight  
One, 21 Guns  
Throw up your arms into the sky  
You and I ..._

My fingers skimmed over the skip button as I danced across my room. Oh, yeah. Might've forgotten to mention the wings. And ears. And claws. So pretty much, I'm 2% bird, 6% wolf, and 100% freak. Nobody knew of course. Not even my bastard parents. Well, they didn't really know anything about me. They had sold me away to some research facility when I was a newborn, and those bitches had injected needles in my arm. (Which hurt like hell by the way.) My animal DNA didn't show until ten years ago, but by then, the reaserchy thingy had lost interests in me. I've learned to live and adapt to my animal DNA, and it's helped me grow in return.

The next song that came on was one of my favorite songs because it was so easy to be able to relate to it. Welcome to my life.

_Do you ever feel like breaking down?  
Do you ever feel out of place,  
Like somehow you just don't belong  
And no one understands you?  
Do you ever wanna run away?  
Do you lock yourself in your room  
With the radio on turned up so loud  
That no one hears you're screaming?_

_No, you don't know what it's like  
When nothing feels all right  
You don't know what it's like  
To be like me_

_To be hurt  
To feel lost  
To be left out in the dark  
To be kicked when you're down  
To feel like you've been pushed around  
To be on the edge of breaking down  
And no one's there to save you  
No, you don't know what it's like  
Welcome to my life_

_Do you wanna be somebody else?  
Are you sick of feeling so left out?  
Are you desperate to find something more  
Before your life is over?  
Are you stuck inside a world you hate?  
Are you sick of everyone around?  
With their big fake smiles and stupid lies  
While deep inside you're bleeding_

_No, you don't know what it's like-_

My phone interrupted the song, I abruptly stopped singing and pressed pause. I looked at the I.D. caller and saw it was one of my friends. I threw my phone back on my bed, ignoring the call. They know I don't answer after school, and especially not today. But they don't know that. They think today is normal. Not at all. Today is the day I will set this damn house on fire and disappear forever.  
Just when you think everything is perfect, Kori Richards with come hunt you down, and tear you and your posh little life to pieces.

_I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath  
Scared to rock the boat and make a mess  
So I sat quietly, agreed politely  
I guess that I forgot I had a choice  
I let you push me past the breaking point  
I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything_

_You held me down, but I got up  
Already brushing off the dust  
You hear my voice, you hear that sound  
Like thunder gonna shake the ground  
You held me down, but I got up  
Get ready 'cause I've had enough  
I see it all, I see it now_

**I have a goodish sense of humor. Sometimes it turns a little dark. If you've read my A.N. on other stories, then you should know that. Or if you've read my stories at all. But the thing I hate about myself and love at the same time, is that I am darkness. I love the dark. I cherish it. I let it corrupt me. But the thing is, I need the light. Because of this other me I've created, I've adapted to it. I frolic in the light, and rejoice in the dark. But that has kind of helped me. I've developed a sense of humor, (Ish) I've become less evil, mad, depressed, I've become more carefree. But some days, I'll just sit in my room listening to Green Day with my blinds closed, laying on my bed, and others, I'll rock out in my yard to One Direction. Yeah. Big bipolar stretch. But the most terrifying thing is, I know at least one or more of my friends are reading this, and... that scares me. I'm mortified to see if they'll judge me, or just... Ignore me. Or maybe, we'll start to drift apart. I crave friendship. I need it. I can tell myself I don't, but I do. And I hope it doesn't sound like I wanna sit here and bitch about how shitty my life is. Cause I know there's a hella lotta people out there who's life is much more fucked up than mine. I don't want to be an attention whore, I promise, I don't. And there are some people who annoy the shit outta me because their like, 'Oh my god I broke my foot! My life is, like, ruined!' They don't know how many goddamned children are starving. They don't know how many homeless people are dying. They don't know how many people are fucking dying because of storms and natural disasters. And because nobody has enough balls to help. And I know I'm included in that group. We are all equal. We all feel pain. Rich, poor. Young, old. We are the same being. No matter what god you believe in, we all come from the same one. Just think about what I've said. I'm talking to the few considerate people who are reading this. And Lexie, I swear to all the gods, bitch about me, and I'll kill you. I promise. I KNOW WHERE YOU FUCKING LIVE FOR HELL'S SAKE! *Composes self* Kori out.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own shit. Song lyrics, Percy Jackson, nothing. So fuck off and don't rub it in. (Sort of kidding...)**

**Reality and Emzo456 : I know how you feel. I know the pain hurts, and I know those names burn and claw your insides trying to take you over. They try to crush your heart. To make it stop. I can only say one thing. Don't give up. Ever. **

**Though sometimes I wonder. Why the hell did a being, whatever religion you are, put us here? It hurts, and makes us cry. Why can't someone save us? And those people that get picked on, they become more and more broken on the inside, and nobody can ever see past the masks. Which we construct pretty damn well. Those people will stop eventually. They always do. That's the way life goes. There's always those people, those bastards that love to see you writhe in pain, cringe in hurt, wallow in sadness. I know it hurts. A lot. And sometimes, you want to let those bastards win. Don't. Fight. Be who you are. Adapt from the brokeness and be who you want to be. Not who everybody's words say you are. And there is a cure for us. There's always a cure. Love. I'm not being corny, or sarcastic. Love can heal people. You just have to find pure love. Notice I didn't say true love. I don't believe in true love. True love is people to naïve to realize, that, regardless of gender, their partner is not faithful. Pure love, is two souls that meet, and become intertwined, maybe instantly, maybe years after that first meeting. Those two souls understand each other. They understand the beatings and torture that the opposite went through. Let the pain go, and don't fear the mean words, because when you stand up to them, they will run away.**

**_It's funny how some distance  
Makes everything seem small  
And the fears that once controlled me  
Can't get to me at all_**

**And Reality? Don't give up. Find something that helps, maybe a hobby. Like drawing little pictures of all the assholes that are mean to you, and then stabbing a pencil through the paper. And that stone heart? You'll find a diamond, because those are harder that stone, and will chip it all away. You can make it through this. I promise. **

**sd328 : Why thank you. **

**Guest : I dono who the hell 'me' is, but I'm thinking every week, or every other week. **

**Now, read the fucking story.**

I stocked up on alcohol.

Well, not exactly. It's wine. And I know alcohol is flammable and there's alcohol in wine, so I was pretty sure my plan would play out correctly. I also knew the carpet was going to burn, even if the alcohol didn't work. I just had to make them think I was asleep. The thing I loved about my room, is that it's practically sound proof. I could drop my hair brush, and it would sound like a soft thud, like I just stepped off my bed or something. So I could get everything ready without my parents knowing a thing. They probably wouldn't even care if a gunshot sounded in my room.** (I could never really tell with them. They were old and weird. No offense to old people...)**

I waited until about 9:50, so I knew they were asleep, and poured red wine all over my mom's precious carpet. As I quietly trekked back to my room, I knew exactly what I needed next. Just a note to the newbies, don't put matches on your nightstand, then pile loads of stuff on there because well, it kinda hard to commit murder if you can't find your supplies. After several minutes of rummaging, I found them. I laid them on my bed and took out my black waterproof duffle bag. I pulled out my phone, looked at the clock and when I saw the time, I cursed. 10:45. Fuck. I need to leave at 11:30. I packed my duffle bag quickly, not bothering to fold my clothes. I knew they'd be unfolded within a day, so why bother? I didn't take my 'preppy' (I have no idea what the hell that means.) clothes, after all, I was going to live in the woods. Where no one would find me. In a fortress of solitude. Being weird again. Get over it. I grabbed my bicker jacket and threw it on, loving the feel of the soft fabric inside, and the look of the leather on the inside. After I packed all my clothes, I packed necessities like tooth brush, tooth pate, jewelry, toilet paper, and junk food. One thing that is super kick-ass about my animal DNA is I can eat as much junk food as I want and I won't get fat. My metabolism burns food faster than normal peasants, oh, sorry, people, (Not trying to offend...) so it doesn't matter that there are about a billion calories in what I eat. Anyways, after I finished packing, I looked at the clock and saw it said 11:02. I cheered silently and patted myself on the back for actually being on time for once, and pulled the matches off my bed. I creeped to my mom's room and struck a match, and though it took me several silent curses and many used matches, I got one lit. Although, me not thinking, did a happy dance, and the match swooshed out. This time I was able to light a match quickly, and after dropping it, stepped out of my mom's room. I stood for a minute, watching, to make sure the flames spread. I looked at my clock, 11:15. I ran to my dad's room trying to strike a match on the way, bit the wind was being a little bitch. I finally struck one when I stopped moving, and dropped it in his room. I didn't have to worry about smoke detectors, the batteries died years ago. I raced back to my room, up the stairs, through the door, wings already expanded on my back by the time I reached my destination. I slung my duffle bag between my wings and pushed open my window. Then I paused for a moment, and looking back, I said,

"Merry Freaking Christmas, bitches." (And yes. I cuss in almost every fucking sentence. I'm a girl, and I'm a teenager, and I'm bipolar. So. Fuck off and go judge someone else. Actually, go judge somebody on their fandom, because then they'll kill you. :)) I dropped the match onto my own floor. I jumped out the window and pumped my powerful wings, soaring out my open window, into the moonlit sky. So yeah, I set fire to my parent's house on Christmas Eve, so what? A lyric from Adele's song fleeted through my mind.

_But I set fire to the rain,  
Watched it pour as I touched your face,  
Well, it burned while I cried  
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name_

Except the rain was actually snow.

Wait... What! When the hell did it start snowing? I looked down and saw it was sticking, which was nice if I was a kid and wanted to build a snowman. I looked to the distance and saw the huge storm coming.

"Oh."

I'd have to sleep in a tree instead on the ground, which I usually ended up doing anyway. At least I'd have a White Christmas.

I landed in the tree, and slid my duffle bag to my stomach. My wings encased me, and I felt the cold of outside envelop me. I waited for the cold to turn to heat, and when I did, I slipped off my jacket. I balanced myself on the tree in a way I wouldn't fall if I moved, just rock a little.

I put my beats on that I ah, borrowed from a nearby hiker's backpack. That was a while ago, but apparently some menace had arrived in the woods and was raping people while stealing their stuff. I, of course, only steal things, so I have no idea where the fuck the raping rumor evolved. I still believe in cooties. No. I'm just kidding.

That's retarded.

On a different note, I lived in the woods mostly. Well, other people didn't know that. I used to tell my mom that I was going to a friends house, and I'd tell the 'friend' I was sick. This worked out well when I got pissed at someone, and just wanted to get away. As my thoughts started to get more incoherent, I realized I was going to sleep. I turned off my music, and the last lyrics rang in my ears.

_Who says, who says you're not perfect  
Who says you're not worth it  
Who says you're the only one that's hurting  
Trust me that's the price of beauty  
Who says you're not pretty  
Who says you're not beautiful, who says?_

I have learned that waking up in a tree is not something to be nonchalant about. The second or third week I had gone to the woods, it had rained earlier that day. So I couldn't sleep on the ground. And long story short I had almost broken my arm from falling out of the tree. And today, the same scenario almost happened again. In the storm, a branch had fallen, leaving me wobbling on two limbs instead of three. I'm sure every living thing in the woods heard my cry of,

"OH SHIT!"

When I had gotten myself situated again, (After falling out of a tree one tends to be startled and disoriented.) I checked my phone and saw several days had passed. How the hell I slept several days I'll never know. While I had apparently been sleeping, the snow had melted away, leaving the dead -formerly green- grass showing. I rustled through my duffle, groping around until I felt my hand come in contact with the bristles. I pulled my beats off and set them aside as I brushed the leaves and tangles from my hair. I guess I'd wear my Joanna Mason sweat shirt today, with one of my thicker pair of leggings. It was after all, kinda fucking, oh I dono, COLD! Of course my combat boots and my necklace would stay the same. My necklace always stayed on, it was my most favorite piece of jewelry. (My wing earrings coming in second.) I was in love with the little bird with the arrow. The little golden mocking jay was always shining on it's chain. Now, I knew there was about a million of them in the world, but still. I loved it. Let me explain myself, you need to know somethings. I am a fangirl. Totally, completely, and forever. I had many fandoms, but my favorite two were Harry Potter and The Hunger Games. I even had a wand, that was currently in a special compartment in my duffle bag. As soon as I got some water from the creek that burbled near my tree, I would watch Catching Fire for the... fifth or sixth time.

I snatched up my water bottle, heading towards the creek. I actually hated water, (It tastes shnasty!) but I didn't want to use up my coke and sprite yet. I knelt down by the creek, looking in the water before I filled my bottle. The creek was safe to drink from, seeing as granite lined the bottom of the water, and the water was always clear. And, I wasn't sick, so I figured it was okay. As I watched the water fill my bottle to the brim, I felt another presence by the creek with me. The person gave off and evil vibe, but that kind of excited me, the last few hikers hadn't put up a fight. I screwed the cap onto my water bottle and set it beside me, tensing my back where my tattoo that formed my wings resided. I leaped up and whirled around, my wings expanding and my claws shlicking out. I stopped moving when a long sharp pointy thing was leveled at my throat. I tilted my eyes down and saw a wicked looking black sword glinting at me. My claws had been poised to strike at the teenager's neck, ready to rip open the somehow pale but olive skin.

"Well this isn't fair. Nobody else had a fucking sword! I demand a refund! I don't have to work for this shit!" I said, slipping into a sucky British accent as I often did when I talked to myself. I was about to say something again, but the teen pressed the metal harder on my neck.

"Say something else, and I'l cut you throat out."

I gave him a once over and made a choice.

"Well you're an asshole." I said, still in a British accent, and knead him in the balls. His face turned purple and he dropped the sword from my throat. I took the opportunity shake my wings out and shoot into the air, away from death for a few seconds.

**That's all for right now. I bet you can guess who the guy is if you look at the hints. And if you guess right, you get a burnt, virtual, cookie! And you can fucking deal with it cause I can't cook worth a shit. Kori out.**


End file.
